


Breathe That Fire Again

by stellahibernis



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Pining, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), avoidance tactics and mixed messages, they're all Avengers again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 11:53:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9489926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellahibernis/pseuds/stellahibernis
Summary: If someone had asked Steve just two years ago what he would need for happiness, he probably would have named four things:1. The Avengers working together as one team.2. An amendment to the superhuman legislation that would mean they had full human rights and a say in what they fought for.3. Being able to live in Brooklyn again.4. And finally, Bucky safe from persecution and the triggers gone.These days he has all of that, and for all that he tries, he can't convince himself it's enough.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set some years after CACW, where the Avengers all work together again as an officially recognized team.

##  i.

Steve wakes up at 5:45 a.m. as he does every morning. He blinks up at the ceiling for a full minute before hauling himself up for another day. He dresses for running, drinks some water, and is out of the door in less than ten minutes.

It’s Saturday and he has nothing to do, unless there will be some sort of a crisis. Being an Avenger means he’s on call all the time.

*

It’s been years since the team was torn apart by the Accords and Zola, and by everything else that resulted from it. It took a lot of time and effort for them all to be able to trust each other again. Took a longer time to have the rest of the world to believe in them, but them fighting off an alien invasion was a huge motivator.

It’s not like it used to be, not by a long shot, and Steve thinks it’s better. They have their place in the system now; there’s a committee overseeing their operations, but they have their own representation in it. It’s a good compromise, and it means they’re safer now; everyone with abilities is better able to come forward, regardless of whether they want to be an Avenger.

Not all of them do.

It’s better, because Bucky is no longer a fugitive from law, no longer sleeping in ice, no longer in danger of having his mind taken from him.

*

Steve comes home around 8 a.m., takes a shower and has egg sandwiches and fruit for breakfast. He replies to a few emails, and goes through the news and intelligence reports. It still seems like it will be a quiet day. He puts a load of laundry in the machine, does the dishes by hand and vacuums. He takes the clean laundry up to the roof to dry on the lines he’s rigged up there.

He picks up his book, but can’t concentrate on it.

He takes out his sketch book, but all he seems to be able to draw are body studies that look too much like a specific person, and he throws the book and his pencils away with a huff.

He ends up on a spiral down YouTube until Sam texts him to meet for a lunch.

He’s grateful for the distraction, up until he gets to the chosen restaurant and sees who else is present.

*

Sometimes leading the Avengers feels a lot like herding cats. At least they all are willing to listen to him, most of the time anyway, but it doesn’t really make things easy. Most of them have no military experience, nor suitable temperament, which means teamwork is often anything but seamless. 

Steve finds himself sometimes missing his days with the Commandos, and he knows it’s all kinds of messed up, considering the kind of horror the war was. Still, on their best days they worked like a well-oiled machine, despite the fact they weren’t anything like a traditional unit. Steve misses that ease, and is eternally grateful for Sam, who not only understands the mission mindset, but also his frustration, and lets him vent in exchange of mercilessly ribbing him right back.

There are days now when it feels like he’s just scrambling to get them all pointed to the right direction and hoping for the best.

On better days Steve often feels bad for thinking that his team is difficult, because ultimately they do all work well together, better than anyone has any right to expect.

Bucky is always reliable on the field, sharper and even more ruthless toward their enemies than he was in the war, but also quick to notice any innocents needing protection. He’s better with the rifle too, and sometimes Steve and Bucky can still reach the perfect flow where they don’t need to keep an eye on each other, they just know where the other is and move as one.

*

Besides Steve and Sam, there are Wanda, Nat, Bucky, Sharon, Scott and Hope at the lunch. Steve and Bucky sit at the different ends of the table, far enough from each other that it’s impossible to talk without shouting all over the others, no direct line of sight between them.

It’s not unusual these days.

At the end of the lunch when they’re contemplating on getting coffee, Steve gets a call to come to work. He can’t deny he feels relieved.

*

Steve ends the day the way it began, staring at the ceiling above his bed.

If someone had asked him just two years earlier what he would need for happiness, he would have probably named his team working together, amendment to the superhuman legislation, to be able to live in Brooklyn again and Bucky safe with the triggers removed.

Now he has all of that, and for all that he tries he can’t convince himself it’s enough.

*

Bucky seems happy in his life; he’s taken a place in the team, gets along with everyone and considers some of them friends. He’s comfortable in the city and has a place of his own, an apartment Steve’s never seen.

In truth, Steve doesn’t even know where it is.

*

There was a day, one that Steve doesn’t like to think about.

“It can’t be the same it was,” Bucky said, smiling that pained smile.

It was the only time they talked about it, when it was all sorted out and they were starting their lives again in New York. Since that moment there has been a distance between them, Bucky seeking the company of other people and Steve not knowing how to bridge the gap.

After a while he stopped trying, because there are only so many rejections one can take, only so many cracks a heart can sustain before shattering. Steve suspects he’s all too close already.

Bucky didn’t say, “We can’t be friends like we used to be anymore.”

Steve heard it anyway.

*

“You’re getting lost in all of this,” Bucky said, and Steve still pretends he didn’t understand what Bucky meant.

 

* * *

 

##  ii.

If one counts the years Steve has actually lived, he’s spent less than a third of his life in various uniforms, and yet sometimes it feels like he can barely remember what it was like not to. These days he has his battle uniform, but suits feel like one too. 

The same way that he was more comfortable on the field than at the officers’ club during the war, he still feels most natural wearing his tactical gear and calling out orders or making up strategies. Getting into a suit and talking to people leaves him drained in a different way, leaves him feeling vulnerable.

He shrugs into his jacket, buttons it, and makes sure his tie lies flat and his cuffs are  straight.

It’ll be a long night.

*

The cocktail party is the kind of event Steve feels least likely to be home at, but he needs to be present. It’s all part of the political game he wishes he could avoid, but it makes it possible for them to work as the Avengers at all, so it’s worth him feeling uncomfortable on occasion.

He knocks back another drink and tries to not look like he’s bored out of his skull.

*

The event gets a lot less boring when Steve spots an arms dealer that’s been known to be able to get his hands on alien tech. He’s been in the wind for the past year, and Steve shakes his head at the audacity to turn up at a fundraising party right in the middle of New York. 

Stupid of him, really. He must be in a tight spot to risk something like this.

Steve casually makes his way closer to the man, keeping up his relaxed expression, looking like he’s just drifting around. He’s still not great at undercover work, but for this he doesn’t need to be either. When they get close to one of the exits, Steve grabs the man by arm and walks him out of the door and up the stairs. 

“Your luck must be running low, Mr. Jackson, to risk appearing here,” Steve comments mildly as they step onto the roof to wait for the transport that Steve called earlier.

“I took some precautions,” Jackson says. 

Steve shifts to look around as he hears a scrape from behind him, and feels like he’s been punched on his lower back.

He registers the sound of a suppressed gunshot only after the pain, and he elbows Jackson at his jaw to knock him out before turning to see the man that must have been waiting on the roof is coming closer, still aiming his gun at Steve. 

Steve is calculating the angles in his head, where to take shelter, when the man takes yet another step forward, and is out of the blind spot created by the entrance to the stairwell. He drops between paces, pierced by a high powered rifle slug. 

Steve has no time to be surprised, since four other men burst out of the stairwell, and he grabs the gun from the fallen man and drops two of them. The other two are dealt with by the sniper, and by then Steve can hear the distinctive whir of the quinjet engines.

It’s not really surprising that Jackson turned out to have brought back up.

Steve, on the other hand, wasn’t supposed to have any, considering he was meant to attend a cocktail party, not a gunfight.

*

Steve is exhausted and his back isn’t feeling great when he gets back to his apartment, and he ends up just tipping down on his couch without bothering to make it to his bedroom, or even out of his suit.

He’s out like a light.

*

He wakes up to the distinct sense of being watched. When he opens his eyes, he sees Bucky in an armchair at the other side of the room, frowning at him.

“You need to work on your awareness, since you insist on living here with a security system that might as well not exist,” Bucky says.

“I think I’m fine,” Steve says. “Last week I nearly decked Nat because she tried to sneak on me while I was at the medical, so.”

“Yeah, and now you didn’t even twitch. I didn’t even bother to be quiet.”

“Guess my subconsciousness trusts you,” Steve says, and Bucky doesn’t seem to have an answer. Steve is just glad they’re not having another argument about whether he should.

Steve sits up and mentally checks his status. His back is still sore, but it’ll be fine soon.

“Do you always follow me when I’m at events like yesterday?” Steve asks, and Bucky just scowls at him, which is answer enough.

Steve isn’t sure how he feels about it. He knows how he would like to feel; hopeful, but he doesn’t know the reason, so he doesn’t dare. Bucky doesn’t seem inclined to inform him either.

“Good thing I was there, seeing as how you got shot,” Bucky says, still frowning.

“I’m fine, really.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before. Not like you haven’t walked away without treatment, just saying you’re fine when you’re about to keel over.”

“Well, I’m sure you know I’m not actually bleeding,” Steve says, irritated suddenly. “I wear the light body armor that Tony made under the suit every time, I know there are risks at gatherings like yesterday’s.”

Steve takes off his jacket and unbuttons his shirt to show the armor. It’s thin, invisible under clothes, but bulletproof, which Bucky well knows. They all have their own.

Bucky looks at him for a second longer before getting up and walking to the door without another word. Steve’s mind is screaming at him to open his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out, and with a barely audible click of the door Bucky is gone.

*

The body armor is practical, but since it fits like a second skin, there’s no padding. Even when the bullets don’t pierce, they still pack a punch. Steve usually doesn’t get broken bones, but the bruising is still fairly spectacular, for all that it’s gone soon.

Steve’s jacket however is ruined, which means he needs to get a new suit. He hates the process of getting measured.

 

* * *

 

##  iii.

Nothing changes.

Bucky and Steve have a perfectly professional relationship when it comes to work and training. They even spar together, since they’re evenly matched enough that they don’t have to hold back or strain. Surprisingly it’s one of the things that isn’t weird, as long as Steve only thinks of moving his body, how to land the next hit, how to avoid being pinned down.

Steve still goes to conferences, dinners and parties, sometimes by himself, sometimes with some of the other Avengers. Every time he looks out of the windows, checks sight lines and calculates where the best non-obvious position for a sniper would be. He wonders if Bucky is still out there every time watching over him.

He also wonders if he should just tell Bucky to stop, considering the other people in the room definitely would feel uneasy with the idea of the Winter Soldier looking at them through the scope.

*

Steve still can’t figure out what it means that Bucky has taken to watch over him outside of the missions when he can’t be bothered to talk to Steve even about something as mundane as breakfast choices.

*

Steve regrets a lot of things about the situation they’ve somehow been caught in with Bucky, one he doesn’t know how to rectify. Many aspects of it sting, but the one that really hits him is how he sometimes finds himself retreating away from their friend group. He knows he’s doing it, that the excuses about work or being tired aren’t always true, albeit often enough that he thinks most of them haven’t noticed.

Sam has, since Steve has caught his frown more than once. He hasn’t talked about it with Steve yet, even though it’s probably only a matter of time. He’s only started making doubly sure to drag Steve away from his desk or the strategy room, or to call him out for lunch on weekends.

Natasha definitely has noticed, but she hasn’t said anything either, which is definitely out of character for her.

*

Now that they all can spend time with each other without things being dire and falling to rubble all around them, it’s obvious that there’s some kind of history between Bucky and Nat. Steve doesn’t know what exactly since they’ve never offered to talk about it and Steve won’t ask.

Sometimes Steve catches a sight of them, angled toward each other, Bucky looking more relaxed than Steve ever sees him these days. It’s as if the air crackles around them.

He always looks away and pushes everything it reminds him of far from his mind.

*

Steve is happy that his friends are Bucky’s friends too, but it makes it harder for him to stay in the group sometimes. The distance between the two of them feels almost worse when there are other people around. It’s not glaringly obvious; Bucky always makes avoiding Steve look random, any one instant could be just a chance, but all together they become a pattern.

Steve knows their friends are aware of the tension between them, but gratefully no one has taken it up with him. He doesn’t know how he’d reply.

They’re never alone these days when they’re off duty, and the fact that Bucky was at Steve’s apartment feels almost unreal. At the headquarters Bucky only comes to the room Steve is in if there are others too, and somehow he manages things so that they don’t even have that many chances to talk. Steve knows it absolutely is intentional.

He’s stopped trying to talk to Bucky, because he never gets far before Bucky excuses himself, or just manages to bring someone else into it. 

Steve knows he’s stubborn to a fault, but he can take a message.

*

Sometimes it feels like the missing is compounded, because he misses Bucky, and not in a sense of missing who he was. They’ve come together after drastically changing before this, and back then they just fit together again. Steve believes they could now too, if only Bucky would give them a chance.

There’s also the fact that in this modern world many things are different, and in here they wouldn’t have to hide. In here they would be able to see where the closeness that had blossomed between them during the war could take them without a fear of getting the blue discharge, or worse.

Steve doesn’t know if Bucky remembers, they’ve never talked about it and Steve hasn’t asked. He knows for a fact that Bucky doesn’t remember everything, and that the war time in general is harder to piece together than living in New York before it.

He doesn’t know which would be worse to hear; that Bucky doesn’t remember how they were more than friends, or that he does, but doesn’t want it anymore, doesn’t want Steve anymore.

*

Of course, Bucky’s made it fairly clear that he doesn’t want Steve regardless.

Yet he still watches over Steve like the deadliest guardian angel.

*

Pepper sets him up with a date, and Steve says yes, mostly because he’s tired; tired of being rejected. Sam and Nat both encourage him for it, even if Steve doesn’t feel too hopeful.

The day before the date they uncover a HYDRA plot, and they scramble around for the next three weeks trying to make sure it’s all contained. When he’s back at home and slept around the clock, Steve calls his date, who understands but doesn’t want to reschedule. Apparently it was a reminder of how dangerous Steve’s life is, and it’s too much for her. Not that Steve blames her.

He can’t deny he feels relieved at the outcome.

He calls Pepper and asks her not to set him up again, since it wouldn’t be fair to the other person. After all, if Steve would rather fight HYDRA than go on a date, he probably isn’t ready.

 

* * *

 

##  iv.

Steve often goes to the training rooms at the headquarters when he can’t sleep. It’s something of a trip from Brooklyn, but in the middle of the night there’s not much traffic, and riding his bike is almost fun in a way it usually isn’t in the city.

The punching bags are reinforced so he doesn’t have to worry about breaking them, and they have a room with an obstacle course that Friday reconfigures for every lap. It’s easy to fall into the rhythm of the exercise and not think of anything else.

*

Sam finds him floating in the pool, his coffee wafting its rich scent around the room.

“Man, this is the fifth time this month you’ve come here at night. And I know five in a month isn’t much in general, but it’s only the 8th. You got to do something.”

Steve climbs out of the pool and gets his towel without saying anything.

“You should talk to him,” Sam says, finally dropping the pretense.

“You know what, I think I’m going to,” Steve replies, deciding right on the spot.

*

Truth is, he’s done with being confused and uncertain. He’s stuck in a pattern, in more ways than one, and he needs to untangle himself from it. He needs to move on, and for that he needs clarity about where they stand with Bucky.

Even if there’s a chance the clarity is going to hurt him all the more.

He’s left Bucky alone, since Bucky’s all but told him he wanted to distance himself from Steve. Now it’s time to push.

*

It’s the kind of discussion that Steve would prefer to have in private, but since Bucky very studiously avoids being alone with Steve, it’s not really feasible. Even though they spar together it only happens when there are others in the gym too. And during their off-time, there’s no chance that Steve is going to catch Bucky alone.

It means the discussion is going to be more uncomfortable than it needs to be to start with. Steve half wonders if it’s part of Bucky’s reasoning, he knows Steve well enough that he’d know how Steve would be less likely to bring up some topics within company.

But there’s a breaking point to everything, and Steve has reached his.

*

There’s actually a better opportunity than Steve dared to expect later that day when he’s in the rec room. Scott, Clint, Wanda and Sam are playing cards, and Steve is reading with his coffee when Bucky comes in, makes himself a sandwich and sits at the bar at the other end of the room to eat it.

Steve gives him time to settle down with it so that he can’t just up and leave when Steve moves before getting himself a new cup of coffee and sitting opposite to Bucky.

“Okay, we’re doing this now,” Steve says, voice low enough he knows they can’t make out the words on the other side of the room.

He notes the discussion dying down, though, because even if no one mentions it to him, they know how unusual it is for Steve and Bucky to interact like this. He’s getting the distinct impression that the others don’t quite know whether they want to run or watch. It’s not helping, so Steve pushes it to the background of his mind.

“Doing what?” Bucky asks, and for all that he looks like he’s about half a second away from bolting, he still asks the question, which is more of an opening than Steve has gotten in months.

“I’ll leave you alone after this if you really want me to, keep it professional and nothing else, but I need to know it’s really that. This avoidance after vague statements about how it can’t be the same isn’t enough.”

Bucky slumps in the chair, resigned, and says, “It can’t be the same, Steve.”

It’s the first time in months he’s used Steve’s name, and it’s only now that Steve realizes it. It doesn’t help him at all to decipher what it all means.

“I know it can’t, I don’t expect it either,” Steve says, and lowers his voice that was about to rise. “In some ways, I most definitely don’t want it to be the same. I don’t miss how we needed to hide, for one.”

It’s a straight allusion to what they used to be, and the first time either of them has said anything about it since Steve learned Bucky was alive. Bucky looks stricken enough that Steve half wants to stop, to let go, but he can’t. Not now. He can’t keep sparing Bucky at the expense of his own heart.

“I just need to know what’s going on, because I don’t know what you want. For one, you won’t talk to me unless it’s work, and yet you apparently follow me around when I go out by myself. That’s sending hell of a mixed messages, and I can’t deal with that.”

“Do you really want to have this discussion here?” Bucky demands, just as quiet as Steve, since it’s fairly obvious everyone else in the room is trying to listen without appearing to be so.

“No, not really, but it’s not like you’ve been giving me a lot of other options,” Steve shoots out, finally letting the irritation surface a bit. He’s not proud of the flash of guilt it brings to Bucky’s face.

Bucky doesn’t get to reply since right then all their phones go off with an alarm.

As they’re heading to change into their battle gear, Steve walks next to Bucky.

“Don’t think we’re done with this.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t, you never let anything go,” Bucky says, but there’s no resentment, just knowing in it.

Steve lets his instinct guide him when he lightly grabs at Bucky’s arm to stop him for a moment. Bucky doesn’t look at him, but clearly listens.

“That it can’t be the same as it used to be between us doesn’t have to mean it can’t be anything at all,” Steve says, and he knows he sounds pleading, but he doesn’t care a bit.

 

* * *

 

##  v.

Steve decides he wants a few years without having to fight either robots or mad scientists controlling them, but knows it’s unlikely to happen. How the world keeps turning them up so often, he has no idea. Not that mad scientists with biological experiments are any better.

The fight and immediate securing of the scene took them better part of three days, and the debrief and paperwork that needed to be done afterward all mean that it’s late evening when Steve finally gets to go home.

Bucky took off without a word at some point between his debrief and Steve being finished. Steve can’t deny he feels a bit disappointed about it, since he was fairly sure Bucky had decided to at least give the talk a chance. Well, Steve meant what he said, and still means to look Bucky up to finish the discussion.

At the last flight of stairs to his apartment he fishes out his keys, and stops on his tracks when he sees there’s a folded piece of paper neatly rolled among them. The writing is familiar, the kind of cursive people don’t learn anymore, and the note is short.

_ Tomorrow at six, Chinese and beer. _

It is a peace offering, and honestly a lot more than Steve expected. He is still a bit confused about the mixed messages he keeps getting from Bucky, and he has to damp down the hopeful feeling. He still doesn’t dare to let it in, even though there is another thing on the note. An address.

*

As Steve parks his bike the next day at Bucky’s apartment building he sees Bucky on the fire escape, so he just hauls himself up instead of going through inside. Bucky’s smoking, and Steve sits down next to him, as he used to do countless times back before the war.

It’s familiar and not at all at the same time.

“I didn’t know you still smoked,” Steve says.

“I’ve been trying to move on,” Bucky says,  and Steve knows he doesn’t mean the cigarettes at all.

Steve clenches a hand into a fist, the one at the far side of Bucky so he can’t see it. He’s been preparing for this, but it still isn’t going to be easy to hear. Yet, it’ll be clarity after all.

Bucky stubs the cigarette into a chipped mug in the corner of the platform.

“You know, back then I told myself it was okay what we did, because it was a war and it wasn’t going to become anything anyway because it was illegal. So what was the harm in getting some physical comfort, right?”

“Right,” Steve says, and knows he sounds hollow.

He stares at the wall on the other side of the alley, willing himself not to tear up. At least he’s getting his answer.

“But here, there’s no law against it, so it’s different.”

“I get it,” Steve says. “Never meant anything, so why bring it up at all. And I guess it’s odd, spending time with me, all things considered.”

He’s thinking of just going back home and trying to figure out how he wants to live now, when there’s a hand on his wrist.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Bucky says. “It meant everything. Still does.”

Steve looks at Bucky, and it’s as if he finally lets Steve see him. He looks stubborn, unapologetic, and there’s that other thing, something Steve has missed seeing ever since he learned Bucky was alive.

“I don’t understand.” Steve still doesn’t quite dare to hope.

“Because here, it could be real between us, and that’s why I kept away. It’s not right for me to keep you. You deserve something better.”

Steve gapes at Bucky, who sets his jaw but doesn’t look away.

“So you decided to not even be friends?”

“I’m sorry about that,” Bucky says. “Truly. But I don’t think I can handle being just friends.”

“Bucky Barnes, I should punch you,” Steve says, and hauls Bucky close by his jacket lapels and rests their foreheads together.

“Yeah, you’ve said that a time or a dozen,” Bucky says and really smiles.

“I know, every time you try to decide what’s good for me without asking. Can’t you just let me decide that for once?”

Steve doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead he kisses Bucky, who sighs into his mouth and relaxes in Steve’s grip. Bucky tastes like smoke, his stubble tickles on Steve’s lips, and it’s the same as always and yet not.

It’s perfect.

When they pause they don’t move away from each other, and Bucky says, his lips brushing over Steve’s, “So, do you want to come in for Chinese and beer?”

It is more than the peace offering Steve first interpreted it as. It’s everything, and he doesn’t have to consider his answer.

“Yeah, I really do.”

**Author's Note:**

> With this one I tried a bit more concise style than I usually do, no doubt inspired by the fact I'm currently in an editing hell with a fic that's over 120k long.
> 
> I'm also on [tumblr](http://stellahibernis.tumblr.com/)


End file.
